In the gymnasium where glistening bamboo and red geraniums screened the chest-weights along the walls, and feathery branches of pepper climbed luxuriantly over the inclined ladders, she found the crowd characteristic of this occasion,--the Freshman men at one end, the Freshman girls at the other, and between them a neutral zone of old students chatting gayly, oblivious of the purpose of the affair. Oh, but the reception committee! Save for these indefatigable martyrs, the Freshman sexes might have gazed wistfully at each other across the lines of upper class-men until the lights dipped and never been able to bow on the Quad next day. Important-looking persons with silk badges and worried faces circulated in a grim endeavor to "mix things up." One of these wild-eyed people would dash into the crowd and haul some struggling upper class-man over to the feminine section. With his victim in tow, he would open conversation feverishly: "Name, please?" "Miss Newcome." "Ah, permit me to introduce Mr. Oldman. Miss Newcome, Mr. Oldman. Isn't it warm to-night? Fine talk of the Doctor's, wasn't it? Well, you must excuse me; we're very busy," the last words dying in the distance as he sped away. Pocahontas contrasted this chill with the warmth of church socials at home. She felt disappointed and dreadfully alone. Her sober-minded room-mate was bobbing like a pigeon before Professor Grind, enthusiastically telling him "how much inspiration she got from his courses;" Katherine Graham was lost in a swirl of upper class-men. The Freshman had half turned toward the dressing-room when out of the press came Jack Smith, big, wholesome-looking, still smiling with some memory of his latest conversation. Why did Hannah stop? It was certainly bold,--doubtless it was half-unconscious,--but stop she did, and a committee-man, wheeling suddenly, caught Smith, dashed through the preliminaries, and the Sophomore had added Hannah Grant Daly to the list of his acquaintances. Now "Cap" Smith had not come to this reception to meet Freshman girls--at any rate insignificant ones with spectacles and sandy hair; but no one could have told that he had not begged to be presented to this one. "I'll have to ask you the same question we put to all," he began, smiling pleasantly; "what's your major?" She would have given much to have answered something clever or interesting, as no doubt other girls did, but she could only stammer: "Education." "You've answered so promptly I'll let you off the rest of the text,--there are forty-two questions in all, each more inquisitive than the last." The Freshman giggled; she did not know just why, unless it was that his face and merry way inspired jollity. "Have the committee on irrigation attended to you yet?" "I don't know; I have registered," she faltered. He laughed, and she blushed uncomfortably.